


Laying Old Ghosts

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whose Line S10E04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Ryan's absence from a Whose Line taping this season due to sickness, and Colin's subsequent tweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laying Old Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Not real (except for the tweet). No offense intended to those portayed.

It was strange but not unpleasant, Colin decided. Greg sat in Ryan’s chair as if he belonged there, and he did. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t sat there before. And it wasn’t even as if Colin hadn’t done this without Ryan before, although that taping… no, he wasn’t going to go there. So much water had passed under the bridge since those early days. He’d more than earned his place. And right now he was in the company of some of his best friends—friends who he loved as much as any, save maybe one person.

The fact remained that Ryan had been forced to pull out, and Colin was beyond thankful that Greg had been able to step in at such short notice. Ryan’s absence was felt of course—by everyone, including the audience—but Greg brought his A-game and an entirely different energy to the team. Performing with Ryan was like slipping on a pair of comfortable shoes, always ready and waiting for you, whereas Greg was a little more like a shot of whisky; invigorating, with a pleasant burn.

As for Greg’s chemistry with Jeff… well, it reminded Colin of another couple of improvisers who spent a lifetime dancing around each other onstage and off. And even though there were a few moments when Colin found himself missing the smallest of things that he’d come to take for granted—the hand that would find some reason to brush against his own, the soft murmur of words in-between games meant for his ears alone, the water glass that was always filled, and just the quiet strength of Ryan’s presence —it was undoubtedly a good taping.

He begged off the customary drinking session afterwards, opting instead to go back to the hotel. It wasn’t a lie when he said that he was tired, after all he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but of course he had an entirely different motive—and apparently predictable too, judging by the barely concealed twinkle behind Greg’s glasses.

 

When Colin entered the hotel room barely twenty minutes later, smoothly removing his keycard from the slot, the lights were off and the television was on. It bathed everything in a flickering light, an ebb and flow of black and white illuminating the prone figure sprawled across the bed in a jumble of white sheets. Rounding the bed, Colin could see that Ryan’s eyes were closed, his face half hidden by the pillow it was pressed into. One arm hung off the bed, fingers curled slightly. Even in the light from the television set, Colin could see the perspiration that dampened his hair and the paleness of his complexion.

Colin quietly switched the television light for the softer and warmer glow of the bedside lamp, but Ryan must have sensed the change because his hand blindly reached out to grasp Colin’s leg with a soft mumble of something indistinct. Colin smiled and reached down to brush a hand across his forehead, feeling the residual heat there.

“How’s the patient?”

Ryan grunted and blearily opened one eye. “I’m never eating again.”

“That bad, huh? Have you stopped vomiting?”

“Yes, nurse,” Ryan replied with a valiant stab at a teasing tone. “Someone needs to tell my stomach that it can relax, though, because it sure as hell hasn’t got the memo.”

“I’ll get you some more water.”

Colin’s attempt to move away was thwarted by the tightening of Ryan's fingers, holding him in place. “No, don’t. Stay with me.”

“I’m going to the bathroom, Ry, not to war.”

“I know but I missed you. Just lie down with me for a while. Please?”

Colin let out a soft snort of amusement but kicked off his shoes and slid onto the bed nevertheless, allowing Ryan to wrap his long body around him. “You’re really needy when you’re sick, you know that?”

His tone was fond, though, and Ryan only hummed in response, settling more comfortably with his head on Colin’s chest. “How was the taping?” he murmured after a moment’s silence.

“Good,” Colin replied, absent-mindedly carding his fingers through Ryan’s thick curls. “We missed you but Greg did a great job.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He was flirting with Jeff, of course.”

“Mmm.”

“And Jeff was flirting right back.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Colin paused and glanced down to see that Ryan's eyes had slipped closed again. “And at the end we all had group sex onstage.”

“Mmm.”

Resisting the laugh that tried to bubble up from his chest, Colin continued his gentle ministrations as Ryan’s breathing steadily evened out. Then he carefully removed his phone from his pocket and tapped out a short message.

_Great taping tonight. Ryan got some kind of stomach thing and @GregProops filled in beautifully. Ryan is doing better, so no worries._


End file.
